17th of Last Seed, 4E 201
Hroar's muffled sobs had kept Runa up during the night. No matter how hard she pressed furs in her ears, she could hear him. As the night stretched on and no one attempted to quiet the crying boy, she started to wonder if she had begun to hallucinate the constant sniffling, or if her hearing was just better than anybody else's. She tried hard to lull herself to sleep. There had been a quiet scuffle outside, between a thief and a guard, that she had heard briefly; Hroar finally quieted just as the guards yelled at the thief to stop. He awoke with a small gasp, and his sobs continued after a small pause. Runa had given up trying to sleep long before the faint colors of dawn slipped through cracks in the building and dotted the opposite walls. She waited for the sounds of the boys dragging themselves out of bed before she joined them.
Hroar moved sluggishly without much energy as he pulled on clean socks and his worn shoes; he kept his eyes away from any of the other orphans, but Runa noticed the reddish tint to his eyes. Samuel, as perceptive as ever, noticed Hroar's lack of liveliness and moved to intercept the boy as they walked towards the storage closet. Runa ignored them as she grabbed her own half-empty bucket and half-dirty rag and set to cleaning off a stain on the dining table Grelod had screamed about the day before. They cleaned in silence, flinching at the sound of Grelod's door opening. Constance must have accidentally slept in, as unlikely as that was, or was in the town on errands. Runa narrowed her eyes in concentration as she scrubbed and silently hoped the kind Imperial would be back soon to lessen Grelod's beatings.
Grelod walked heavily, anger in her steps, towards the table and hit Runa's arm with her belt which sent the young child scrambling as far away from the old hag as possible; Grelod continued towards the small kitchen without pausing, grabbed the last of the cold rabbit from her dinner last night, and sat down at the table. Her hand, touching the area Runa had been cleaning, came away slightly damp. Murder in her eyes, she turned on the cowering girl and beat her with the belt, breathing out curses with every breath.
"You knew I was eating breakfast soon. You knew, and yet you didn't dry the table! Useless girl! Gutter trash!" Grelod the Kind snarled, pushing Runa down to the floor.
Tears escaped Runa's eyes, but she ducked her head and crawled away as Grelod grumbled back to her seat and finished her cold rabbit. Warm, strong hands helped her up, not moving when she flinched away for a moment. She looked up at Samuel's sorrowful, yet strong, brown gaze and blinked her thanks. The Imperial shifted his head slightly and went back to his sweeping. Runa hid behind the beds until Grelod finished her meal and ushered the children out with an angry bark. Grelod, seeing Runa walking towards the open door, pushed her back.
"Stay here. Don't move," the headmistress spoke with annoyance in her tone. Runa obediently waited as Grelod disappeared into her private room and came back with a tattered dress. "I can't believe I have to waste this on you."
Runa exchanged her current, slightly bloody dress with the new one without a word. It felt strange against her sensitive wounds, but she refused to allow a hint of pain to show on her face as she trudged outside with the boys. She stood slightly away from Samuel in one of the darker corners of the yard as Hroar and Francois examined the boring grasses that had grown in the yard throughout the year. Grelod stood near the orphanage, arms crossed and the permeant scowl on her face. Runa enjoyed the chill that could burrow down into her bones in the coldest months; she loved the crisp air Riften had to offer, even if the smell was always an undertone. She never allowed herself to smile as the breeze picked up and scattered the leaves in the air. She watched them dance, unhindered, and wondered if she would ever be that free.
When Constance returned from her errands, Grelod ended their time outside. No one complained, despite knowing their time had been cut short. They sat down for their one meal a day, quiet and sad. Grelod complained loudly about the orphans to Constance who frowned and sent the children gentle, loving looks. Hroar hungrily swallowed his food down, staring forlornly at his now empty plate and sent repeated glances towards Runa. She ignored him, ignored everyone, and continued to pick at her food. Samuel ate his food delicately, savoring his bites, and Francois copied him after a moment's hesitation. Once Grelod had finished, she ordered Constance to clean up the plates.
"Now, children," she began her speech, latching her angry stare on them one by one. They all knew these next words by heart. "Those who shirk their duties will get an extra beating. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Grelod," they chanted as one. Runa stared at the floor, flinching when Grelod snapped her fingers.
"What do you all say, to me? To the one who takes care of you? To the one who has saved you from that horrible, horrible world out there until you come of age?"
They spoke without feeling behind their words. "We love you, Grelod. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for saving us."
Runa had always thought Grelod had an ugly grin. "Be good children and go finish your chores."
They all turned to finish their never ending list of useless, useless chores. Sweeping never ended. Dusting never ended. Mopping never ended. Cleaning up after themselves never ended. Sometimes, Runa would just clean one spot over and over without Grelod noticing anything. That was how clean they kept the place with their constant assigned duties. Runa wished for something more. She was sick of this place.
"And one more thing!" Grelod's sudden shout brought the orphans scurrying back towards the headmistress fearfully. Runa realized the old hag had forgotten the largest part of her speech. "I will hear no more talk of adoptions! None of you riff-raff is getting adopted. Ever! Nobody needs you, nobody wants you. That, my darlings, is why you're here. Why you will always be here, until the day you come of age and get thrown into that wide, horrible world. Now, what do you all say?"
"We love you, Grelod. Thank you for your kindness."
The ugly grin returned. Runa bit her tongue. "That's better. Now scurry off, my little guttersnipes."
Grelod retired to her room to nap. Constance hurried over to Runa with clean bandages. She wrapped the fresh wounds on the young girl's arms before removing the old bandages on her back and checking the progress on the old wounds.
"You'll have… scars, Runa, but you're healing nicely," Constance murmured, not wanting to wake Grelod. "You heal quite fast. I don't think you need these bandages on your back anymore."
Runa nodded her wordless thanks and smoothed out her dress, feeling lighter without the extra wrappings. Constance rose and went to check on the other children. Hroar had a nasty cut on his thigh as well as a couple of scrapes on his back. Samuel had a couple of new lashes on his neck, shoulders, back, and chest, but they were shallow. Francois hated his scars and tried to hide them the best he could. Constance understood, so she often gave him longer sleeved shirts and pants. Runa envied how the boys wore pants, and she detested how Grelod forced her to wear dresses, emphasizing how girls should never wear pants because it was not lady-like. Runa, in all honesty, had no idea what 'lady-like' meant in a world such as Skyrim. She watched armored women walk the streets; she watched feminine thieves steal and injure guards; she watched beautiful women in silk dresses and fine clothing stab a thief into submission. She often wondered if Grelod had her wear dresses in order to control her spirit.
Grelod could never completely control her. Runa knew that. Sometimes, to prove that Grelod was not in complete control of her, she would steal seven golden coins from Grelod's room. Always seven—no more, no less. Just shy of ten coins, but more than five. Grelod always, always tried to pin the theft on her, but Constance would always pay it back. Grelod would threaten jail time, but Runa had never once ended up in a jail cell. Those little acts would put the spirit back in the young Nord girl, but the beatings would always take it right back out. Another never ending cycle she was stuck in.
The night came fast, despite how bored Rune felt without anything to do. She went to bed after telling Hroar he needed to stop his sobbing or Grelod would find him. She could still hear him crying, even if it was softer. She squeezed her eyes shut and hoped her threats had not hurt him. She did not want to hurt one of her only friends in this cruel world. She fell asleep without noticing the lack of soft sniffles.
Something on the range of her hearing—something odd and out of place—ripped her out of the dreamless sleep and back into reality. Laying on her side, she opened her eyes to watch the entrance of the orphanage, not shifting position. To her surprise, a lithe figure appeared in the dim light in front of dining table. There, the shadow paused, possibly checking to see if any child was awake. Runa swiftly shut her eyes and evened out her breathing. She listened intently—she held her breath without realizing it—until the soft, nearly silent steps padded past her and towards Grelod's room. With a soft click that almost seemed painfully loud in the silence, the steps became muffled and silent. Without thinking, she rolled quietly out of bed and peeked through the small opening in Grelod's door.
A dagger's sharp edge flash brightly in the dim moonlight filtering into the room. Grelod lay sleeping, oblivious. The leather-armored shadow stood in the thin moonlight, red eyes glittering faintly against dark gray skin, holding the dagger above the old hag's neck. Something—Runa guessed lips—moved under the cowl that covered most of the figure's face and head. The dagger hovered and seemed to shake, the soon-to-be murderer taking all the time in the world. Runa stood in the shadows of the half-open door, frozen and completely enthralled.
A hand covered Grelod's mouth at the same time the sharp, jet black dagger sliced into her neck. Grelod's body jerked involuntarily for a couple heartbeats, stopping. The wet dagger disappeared into a sheath on the assassin's belt. Runa could not move. The assassin stepped backwards and turned red eyes upon the witness, steps faltering slightly at the sight of the young girl. Runa's eyes went huge as she stared back at those red eyes, those blood red eyes of a dark elf. She remembered Brand-Shei, a dark elf in the marketplace, had similar eyes. His eyes were warm, kind. These eyes, however, were darker. Terrifying. Her chest warmed uncomfortably with anxiety and terror chilled her to the bone. She stared up at the looming figure, unsure and petrified.
The assassin reached down after a moment. Runa, her fear mounting, flinched and covered her head. Nothing happened. Frantic heartbeats later, she finally gained the courage to look up. The assassin crouched silently near her, observing the bandages on Runa's arms. The warm red eyes, less daunting than before, met Runa's frightened hazel gaze. When a steel dagger was revealed, the young girl knew her life was about to end. She could scream, she realized, and wake up all the other orphans and Constance, but they were incapable to defeating this professional assassin. Four beaten, tired orphans, void of any happiness, and a fragile Imperial woman who cried and panicked when anything scary happened, against a trained killer, would never work. So, Runa kept her mouth closed and shut her eyes in acceptance. She would die as the only witness to this assassin's kill, but she would save the lives of all the sleeping bodies behind her. She held her breath, clenched her fists at her sides, and waited.
Time stretched on. Runa waited. When she needed to breathe, she took small, quiet breaths. She kept her eyes closed, her fists clenched at her sides. She kept waiting for the sound of the blade swishing through the air to end of her life. Gradually, she noticed the lack of the assassin's breath near her, and she cracked one eye open. An empty space stood in front of her. She spun around frantically and hurried over to the nearest bed, leaning over to look at Samuel's sleeping face. His eyes were closed, peaceful, and he breathed evenly. Runa made sure to check every bed. Francois and Hroar slept nearly as quietly as Samuel, even though Hroar had dried tears on his cheeks and his pillow was still damp. Constance's door was closed, creaking when Runa pushed it open.
The kind woman blinked sleepily at the child in her doorway. She yawned and sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes. "Runa," she murmured, "why are you awake?"
Runa shuffled backwards, gesturing for Constance to follow her. "I… I need to show you something," she said without whispering.
Constance flinched and told her to keep her voice down. Runa shook the boys awake and led the other four residences of Honorhall to Grelod's open room. She pushed the door open and walked in. The others immediately hesitated at the doorframe.
"Runa, please get out of there," Constance pleaded. The boys exchanged frightened looks and nodded in agreement.
The young Nord girl smiled at them, earning a couple of raised eyebrows. She opened one of the doors wider and gestured again. "Please," she almost begged. "I have—I found a surprise."
Samuel was the first to step forward into the forbidden room. The moment he took in the blood on Grelod's throat and the odd angle the body was positioned, he broke into another grin. He grabbed Francois's and Hroar's hands and dragged them in, laughing out loud. The two boys stared at the dead hag and cheered, smiling their faces in half. Constance's expression grew more horrified and more panicked as she stood at the doorframe. Cautiously, she peeked around the cheering orphans and at Grelod the Kind's bed. Runa watched the terror replace the moment of confusion, watched her mouth open, watched her eyes widen and her skin pale in the moonlight.
The screams of Constance did little to drown out the cheers of the boys. The kind Imperial rushed out of Honorhall with surprising speed, crying and panicking and screaming. As Constance ran out screaming, Runa closed Honorhall's entrance doors, since in the panic they had been left open. She ran back to the celebrating boys and joined in on their fun. They raided Grelod's cabinets and spilled everything onto the floor with thuds and thunks; they ripped the dead woman's hanging dresses into shreds. Francois used what little magicka he knew, produced a pitiful fire spell, and lit the fireplace so Runa could burn Grelod's only book, The Pig Children. Burning the book gave Francois the idea to burn everything Grelod owned. The children piled as much as they could into that roaring fire—careful not to burn down the entire building—and sat around the warmth with grins on their lips. So giddy and caught up in her joy, Runa could barely remember guards storming in to haul Grelod's body away. No investigations were started. The orphans went to sleep for the first time in years, possibly in their whole life, without fear. They were light. Happy.
Under Runa's pillow, she touched cold metal. Hugging the steel dagger near her chest, she closed her eyes and told the stars to thank that assassin. She slipped the gift under her bed. A special secret. Only hers.
26th of Last Seed, 4E 201
Aventus returned to a now cheerful orphanage. The moment he stepped through the door, he was greeted by hugs and cheers and thank yous of all sorts. Samuel hugged his dear friend, patted him on the back, and caught him up on the current times. Hroar demonstrated how much food he could eat every day, choking; Samuel had to help him spit up all the food lodged in this throat. Francois shyly showed Aventus his new magicka abilities; he could now hold a powerful jet of flame for ten seconds as well as produce a freezing stream of ice for three. Runa practiced with her dagger every chance she could, in secret, so she reported nothing new on her end, other than the happiness Aventus and his assassin brought them.
Aventus introduced Sofie, a young orphan he met in Windhelm. He had offered to help her to Riften, where she would get warm meals and able sleep in a real bed without having to pick sellable flowers in the snow. She accepted. The current residence accepted her with cheerful smiles. Even though Runa was happy to welcome a new orphan into their ranks, she almost envied Sofie who would never know the abuse the others went through. She knew Sofie had gone through her own abuse—abandoned to sleep in the freezing streets of Windhelm—yet she still held jealousy in her heart.
Constance had already planned to have Grelod's room built into a home for other orphans to sleep in; she also removed Grelod's old laws of refusing orphans and adoptions. Throughout the night, once Aventus returned and Sofie joined them, she worked on writing fliers to alert the citizens of Skyrim that they could make a difference for a child, that they could be a hero in a young child's life.
10th of Hearthfire, 4E 201
Constance opened the door, spoke in hushed tones, and closed the door against the cooling air. Alone, Runa sat at the dining table, observing. She quietly finished the last of her bread just as Constance faced her, another orphan holding her hand. He had dark hair and dark skin with dark eyes bright with exhaustion and hidden strength. Runa chewed as she glanced over him. He met her gaze without flinching, dropping his hand out of Constance's. He strode over to the young Nord and stuck out a hand.
"I'm Alesan," he introduced himself, "from Dawnstar."
Runa blinked, slightly startled by his straight-forwardness. She swallowed and gripped his hand, which he shook with surprising strength. "I'm Runa Fair-Shield. From honorable-hall Riften."
The boy chuckled, making Runa grin. She had a feeling he would be a good friend.
27th of Hearthfire, 4E 201
The door opened with a gust of wind; Constance kept it unlocked now so adventurers had no keys in their way of adoptions. Two Nords, obviously related, stepped in, holding the hands of a young girl. Constance hurried over to them with a friendly smile.
"Welcome to Honorhall Orphanage, friends. What can I assist you with today?" the aging Imperial asked.
One of the Nords gestured for the other to speak. The chosen one sighed, released the girl's hand, and patted her on the head. "Found an orphan in Whiterun, and she didn't have a home. I was—we were hoping you'd give her a proper one."
Constance's smile faltered slightly, but she replied brightly, "Of course! She'll be safe with us." She crouched down, looking the new orphan in the eyes. "What are you called, sweetie?"
The girl hummed to herself. "Lucia," she murmured, looking anywhere but Constance. Her dark eyes found Runa's gaze, but she quickly looked away.
"Welcome to Honorhall, Lucia. You'll fit in well here."
Lucia stared at the ground with furrowed brows as Constance bid farewell to the travelling Nords. "You only said that 'cause I'm a orphan 'nd so is everyone else," she muttered to no one. "Stupid."
Runa glanced around to check if anyone else had heard, but she seemed as if she was the only one. She shrugged and pretended Lucia never spoken. Aventus took it upon himself to show the new girl around. Runa just hoped Lucia would not become a handful with her resilient personality.
Not even an hour after Lucia's intrusion, a dirt-faced Nordic man and a young Breton boy walked into the orphanage. Constance was out running errands, so Samuel stepped up to the males. He put on his friendliest smile—which made Runa snicker—and welcomed them in.
"Looking to adopt one of us, mister?" he asked, failing to keep out the hope in his voice.
The Nord shook his head and patted the Breton boy on his shoulder. "This is Blaise. He's—he lost his family and had been living on our farm, but we haven't been able to provide for him good enough since we have a child of our own. I was—we were hoping he could come here. To live."
Samuel's smile became forced, and Runa narrowed her eyes in distaste at the Nord's words. Her hand went under her pillow and touched the cool metal of her dagger, letting the heat from her palm warm it up as Samuel dealt with the inconsiderate Nord and the poor child.
"Of—of course we… he can join us," Samuel nodded, holding out his hand towards the boy. "Welcome to Honorhall, Blaise. I'm Samuel."
The dumb Nord smiled with gratitude. Runa stuck her tongue out; only Hroar noticed, and he laughed loudly. Blaise bid quick farewells to the Nord as Samuel shut the door. Every orphan currently under Honorhall's roof during this time of day introduced themselves to Blaise, feeling his pain. The pain of being the one filled with misfortune; the one picked last.
Closing months of 4E 201
Orphans came and went. Only a few were memorable.
Twin sisters known as Britte and Sissel were adopted almost the same day they arrived at Honorhall by an aging mage. Their quick departure left a bad taste in Runa's mouth and hatred in her heart. A little while later, she heard that Britte had died. She felt no remorse.
Sond and Bottar, two feral boys, put up a fight the moment the guards released them into Honorhall. In a flurry of jabs with a knife that hit no one, they fled into the wilds of Skyrim. Runa figured that if they could escape Riften, they would have a chance in the world. She never saw them return.
12th of Rain's Hand, 4E 203
When Runa entered Honorhall after wandering the town—and secretly practicing with her dagger—she was met by two men, a Nord and a Breton, exiting with the happiest smiles on their faces. The blue-eyed Nord beamed down at her, but her emotionless expression did not waver in the slightest.
"Runa!" Hroar's voice, with barely contained excitement, came from behind the men. The boy named after a lion had his long mane of brown hair unusually brushed and untangled. His smile nearly split his face in half. "I've been adopted!"
At first, his words refused to register. She stood there, in the way of the men, blinking. Her heart beat frantically as she continue to look at his joyful grin, his sparkling eyes, his neat and tidy hair. She could not find words. Her heart ached.
Hroar's happiness seem to pause for a second, his smile awkward. He quickly recovered, pulling shyly smiling Blaise into a hug. "Me 'n' Blaise are going to have a real family!"
Runa knew she needed to be happy for her fellow—no, they could not be called orphans anymore—for the boys, but her heart ached with loneliness and jealousy. She looked at the cheerful Nord and Breton couple. Perhaps if she had not been out in the city. Perhaps if she had been lounging around inside, like Hroar and Blaise, they would have chosen her. A strong, quick girl like her, instead of quiet Blaise and loud Hroar.
She forced a small, weak smile, and stepped out of their way. "Goodbye," she whispered hoarsely.
The family left, happy and carefree. Runa entered the only home she had ever known and crawled into bed. She hugged her dagger to her chest, thinking of the Dunmer assassin who had saved them. Left them to feel lonely when their friends were adopted. Left the unchosen ones with jealousy to fester in young hearts.
At least when Grelod was alive, they had no reason to be jealous. They could only fear physical pain. Emotional pain was something completely different.